


The Spirit of Love

by spectacledotter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacledotter/pseuds/spectacledotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he was young, Oliver Hawke has been accompanied in the Fade by a most particular spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spirit of Love

 

She--Oliver thinks of it as a she--first came to him when he was a child and first learning magic. His father had spent the whole day with him, teaching him, and he went to bed thinking about how Andraste Herself must have blessed him with a mage father who was so patient and gentle. The spirit in his dreams took the form of the chickadee he'd soothed and brought to his hand, and followed him as he explored the Fade.

She's met him in his dreams ever since, this little spirit, always as a bird. She will sometimes guide him down the twisting paths of the Fade, to show him the places she has built or to avoid a demon's lair. Sometimes she will follow him to his dreams.

The first time he slept after seeing Bethany die, the spirit was a lark, with a red band around her neck, singing the little songs Bethany liked to make up as she did her chores. The songs summoned a spectre of Bethany, and he was able to say good-bye to his sister. He wondered once he awoke if that was the real soul of his sister, summoned to him through the Fade.

When he was forced to give Carver to the Warden-Commander, and watch the elf in blue take his brother into the shadows, the spirit appeared in his dreams that night as a kestrel. He did not see Carver, but he felt hope for the first time since his poor brother fell ill. Hope that perhaps he had not lost another sibling. When Carver finally sent them a letter from Vigil's Keep, he thanked the little spirit for keeping his hope alight.

When his mother died in his arms, victim of a maniacal magical monster of a man, he could not sleep. Not until Fenris came to him--Fenris, who had left that same room with tears in his eyes not long before--and allowed Oliver to hold him and weep until he cried himself to sleep, did he see the spirit. At first, the grey dove led him to the spectre of his mother, and he said farewell to her as he did to Bethany.

But then the spirit appeared again, this time as an incredibly colourful, beautiful bird he didn't recognize. Her tailfeathers were long and elegant, her beak curved and powerful but gentle when she wanted it to be. She had a large crest as colourful as her tail. He was awestruck.

He followed the shimmering feathers of the spirit through the Fade until they encountered a jungle. Massive trees covered in dark green vines and leaves surrounded them. Oliver brushed the leaves away as he wandered through, until he heard a choked cry. 

Another branch away, and he was met by the image of Fenris, in tattered, ragged clothes, covered in blood from head to foot. His tattoos glowed brightly in the gloom. Surrounding him were the bodies of humans, men and women, torn apart. Oliver remembered Fenris's story of the Fog Warriors.

"Fenris?" he called out, quietly.

His elven love--but not lover, not really--looked up at him, blue eyes wet. "Oliver...?"

"The same," said Oliver. The spirit settled on his shoulder and chirruped at Fenris.

Fenris recoiled. "What's that?"

"A friend," said Oliver. "You seem lucid, for a dreamer."

"Lyrium," Fenris pointed at the glowing marks. "I don't remember ever having a true dream. You as well?"

"I'm a mage," said Oliver with a shrug. "I stay lucid as often as not." He stepped around the corpses to put his hand on Fenris's shoulder. "We can leave."

"I try," said Fenris unhappily. "I never succeed."

"Perhaps not alone." Oliver turned Fenris's face, his emerald green eyes meeting lyrium blue.

The spirit-bird on his shoulder whistled and spread her wings, taking flight into the trees. Oliver took Fenris's hand and pulled him along. "She can show us the way out."

"You trust her?"

"She has been a friend and companion to me all my life. Not all spirits want to hurt us."

Fenris did not resist, but his eyes never left the spirit. "What is she? It."

"I'm not sure. I've never encountered another spirit like her. She is like compassion, but... different. I have a theory, but..."

The trees suddenly parted to reveal a calm pool of water, lit by the starstream above them. Fenris released Oliver's hand and took a few steps forward. "This is ... not in the same realm."

Oliver slid an arm around Fenris's shoulders, pulling him close. "It's our realm. Our dream. I felt the shift." Fenris was silent, staring at the pool, so Oliver took a risk and pressed his lips to the elf's brown cheek. "Perhaps it can be your first good dream."

Fenris sighed, but he gave Oliver a small, crooked smile. "Perhaps it can, at that."

Which one moved first, Oliver wasn't sure, but it didn't matter--they kissed, as he'd longed to for weeks.

The Spirit of Love settled on a nearby branch, and smiled to herself

 


End file.
